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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24396913">Happy In That Moment</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunriseseance/pseuds/sunriseseance'>sunriseseance</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Umbrella Academy (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Character Study, F/M, Hurt No Comfort, I hateeeeee Patrick, Weddings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:41:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,286</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24396913</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunriseseance/pseuds/sunriseseance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>She did cry a little bit when she looked out at her family’s section and saw four empty seats instead of the planned three. She did add Ben’s rose, and then Five’s rose, to her bouquet to be pressed later. It was tradition, she heard, to place roses on the seats of deceased family. Save a place for them. She didn’t bother to look into what happened after. Should she have thrown the flowers away? Vanya’s chair sat empty, asking her if she had ever made a good choice in her life. She couldn’t answer. <br/>________________________________________________________</p>
<p>Allison is a good woman who has done a lot of bad things, and I love her dearly. In this piece, I wanted to explore her wedding, her feelings about her wedding, and also explore her as a flawed character whose flaws hurt her as much as they hurt anyone else. Inspired in part by the amount of evil Allison I see. I wanted to write an Allison who does bad things, but is not bad, because that is the Allison of canon.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Allison Hargreeves/Patrick, Diego Hargreeves/Eudora Patch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>89</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Happy In That Moment</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/hermitreunited/gifts">hermitreunited</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>If you love Allison as much as I do, flaws and all, come visit me at sunriseseance on Tumblr!! I have a genuinely happyish Allison fic in the works, but this one is almost a year old, and I wanted to get it done first.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Vanya’s RSVP never arrived, and as her agent cinched the corset on her dress Allison’s mind wandered to her sister. Maybe it was for the best. Vanya didn’t dress well for her own graduation, and they hired a photographer set to release photos of the wedding by monday to cut down on the paparazzi interference. She’d look out of place in a button down that didn’t fit her, hair not washed for two or three days. Still, it stung. Vanya fought for a place in Allison’s heart with a raw sort of desperation when they were kids, and now she didn’t even feel obligated to say, hey, I won’t be at the wedding? No gift, not that Allison needed it, no letter, no nothing. The why scratched at the back of her skull, and burrowed into her throat. She ignored it in favor of the anger that burned her cheeks, her eyes. Vanya should have been there, god damn it. With the final ribbon pulled tight, and a “you look beautiful, Allison,” from her agent she pulled herself back to reality. It didn’t matter that Vanya wasn’t coming. Not like Allison wanted her there anyway. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(Allison learned the ‘why’ about a week later, when Vanya’s book hit the shelves at the same time the photos of her wedding did. The duplicitous, self-serving, selfish, jealous little--hurt child who deserves sympathy and love as much as any of the rest of them do. Therapy takes wounds and it asks you to sew them shut and sometimes, sometimes when the blood is all gone, the pain comes with some kind of clarity.) </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Allison heard a knock on the door to her ready-room, and she waited for it to be answered. The room was large, with red velvet and gold furniture and silk curtains. A big window overlooked the field she would be marrying Patrick in in only a few hours. Looking around the room again, she realized it was empty. She was alone. The knock sounded again. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her dress hurt her ribcage, and the tightness made it hard to stand, walk, sit, breathe. She made it to the door right as she heard Luther’s voice say </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey Allison? You told me to come get you when Klaus arrived?” He sounded quiet. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Coming! Sorry. Dress is a little hard to move in.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She opened the door, and was confronted with Luther’s chest. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You want me to loosen it a little bit? I’m sure it’d still look great. You look great, by the way.” He stood in the doorway still. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, it doesn’t stay up if it isn’t this tight. Thank you, thought. Come on in. You uh--you said Klaus is here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>She sucked in and held her breath as she sat down on the red velvet lounge. It was hard and lumpy. Luther sat in the borrowed folding chair across from her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah. Yeah I did. He is here.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And he seems...Fine? The suit is a little big on him but, y’know, what isn’t, right? He’s clean--not like that. He showered. He’s laying on the charm with Patrick’s groomsmen. Says he met some of them before, which is weird, but not one of those horrible Klaus lies. He’s definitely high but, like, when isn’t he?” Luther played with the frayed edge of the curtain next to him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Shit. Allison couldn’t breathe. Her nerves were playing on the edges of her skin and she felt like her heart may burst her ribcage. She laughed, a little bit. The dress would be ruined. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s not lying. Two years ago I paid for him to come here for a good rehab center. He did well. Got to the outpatient program. Then he, you know, it didn’t stick.” She didn’t know what to do. Klaus behaving was not part of the plan. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. Well. That uh. Yeah. Are you okay, Allison?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fine. I just never should have invited him, you know? I didn’t expect him to actually come. I didn’t want the press to get wind of me not inviting one of you because that would not look good but I really, really thought he’d flake out by now. Like he does with fucking everything else.” She cracked her knuckles. Then again. A nervous habit she caught from Diego. Or maybe he got it from her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s your wedding. You can kick him out. Or...make him leave. If you’re worried, I mean. He’s Klaus. He could still pull something.” He moved onto the lounge with her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you think he will?” She knew his answer before it hit his vocal chords</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. Absolutely. He’s about as addicted to attention as he is to, you know, whatever drugs he’s addicted to. The blue ones. I think he’s ingratiating himself with your friends now so that when he makes a scene and you retaliate they look at you as the asshole.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He wouldn’t do that.” She didn’t sound sure. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why not?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He planned this wedding with me. I mean, when we were kids we would literally spend hours painting our nails and planning my dream wedding. I used his fucking color scheme. I can’t kick him out, can I?” She shook as she spoke, but her voice remained smooth. She couldn’t remember if that skill came from acting or Reginald himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should do what you think is best.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I think… I think we should take some photos first. Press will flip if all of us aren’t here. Some pictures with him. Then I’ll decide.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She should not have waited. Klaus was in a suit, and he was clean (not that kind of clean), but he still looked like shit. His eyes were sunken in, he had a slight sheen, and he was pale. Really pale. It almost hurt to look at him in the California afternoon sun. He kept talking to the air when he thought she wasn’t looking. At best, it was a ghost he shouldn’t have engaged with because it made him look crazy. At best. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But he was nice. He was really, really nice. As soon as he saw her his face lit up. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Allison,” he said. She thought for a second that his face was too fragile for a smile that big. His vocal chords too worn for how loud he shouted. She thought he might crack. “It is so, so good to see you. This dress? Jiminy Cricket. You look incredible. You are incredible. I saw the superhero flick… the uh… The Tempest? I even paid for my ticket which you should know is a high compliment. Weird seeing you as a superhero in an outfit that isn’t our old academy regalia, but you did a good job.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks, Klaus” was all she could reply. She didn’t even know if she meant it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So, how excited are you? I swear Patrick is about three times as gorgeous as the last time I saw him. If he weren’t straight, and an honorable man, I’m telling you…” he walked around to her back and rubbed her shoulders. His hands were stronger than she expected. Still cold, though. Still cold. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m ecstatic. Really, really happy. I almost can’t believe this is real, you know? Like him? He loves me?” It was easy to fall back into the old rhythm with Klaus. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well don’t sell yourself short, chị tôi, he’s damn lucky to have you. Not that he owns you. You’re your own woman. It’s 2011, after all.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She turned around, and his hands fell off of her skin. He was shaking. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s 2012, Klaus.” Just like that, she was aware of him again. Aware of the grass she could see peaking through his toes because he had lost his shoes at some point. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. Well where has the time gone, I wonder. Doesn’t really matter. Hey I uh. I wanted to apologize. For a lot of things, actually. Mostly for not having the dough to buy you anything off your registry. I made you something, but it really… I mean it isn’t worth anything. I looked. I even thought about stealing something. But then I thought, no, Allison wouldn’t like that. Then I was gonna do it anyway, but I realized that if I don’t buy it it doesn’t get checked off the registry so I painted you something instead.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s the second thing?” She was searching for something. Something. </span>
  <span></span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry for...for skipping town when you were trying to help me. That was a real bastard sorta thing to do. I’m trying to get better.” Klaus scratched his arm under the overlarge sleeve of his suit. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you high?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She watched his face fall. He closed his eyes for a second. Breath in, breath out. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I am, yeah. But, like, barely.  I’ve been good, mostly.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The sun shone above them, and a lazy cloud milled by. Allison felt the grass tickling her feet through her sandals, she felt a gentle breeze on her shoulders and face. In the distance, the ocean roared and the smell of it carried. She took one deep breath, then another. They took a few photos, then took a break. She walked up to Klaus who seemed to stare into the distance at nothing in particular. He gave her a gentle smile when she approached.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I heard a rumor that you think the wedding is over, that you had a wonderful time, but it’s time to go. It was beautiful, just like we planned.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus’ eyes flashed blue and he shut them for a second. When they opened again, they had glazed over slightly. He put a smile on his face and reached out to hug her. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, Allison. This was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. I had a wonderful time. Thank you so, so much for trusting me. Just like we planned.” He grabbed her hand, and kissed it. She watched as he walked barefoot to the road. They had three pictures of all of them together, and that would be enough. She didn’t know how he would make it home. She didn’t even know if he had a home to make it to. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(Allison didn’t open Klaus’ present until after Patrick filed for divorce. Actually, she didn’t open it until after her first court-mandated therapy session where they talk about her power as an addiction. The thing had been gathering dust in her mind until then. Until Dr. Jones held up a mirror and she saw a jagged piece of Klaus looking back at her.)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(He painted the beach house that she and Patrick had taken him to on one of his free weekends. She had forgotten that he was such a good artist. Lost it among all of the other things he was. The painting took her breath for a second. Scrawled on the front and not smudged, in spite of Klaus’ left-handed nature, the phrase “love is speaking in code, it’s an inside joke, love is coming home” grabbed her gaze and wouldn’t let go.)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(She called the last number she had for him, but he didn’t answer. It was some woman speaking a language she didn’t know. Chinese, she guessed. She remembered when Klaus was learning Chinese. Intonations drove him crazy, but he got it eventually. She didn't. She couldn’t reach him.) </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(In a horrible twist, Luther never forgave Klaus for leaving the wedding early. You were willing to give him a chance, he said, and he threw that away. You were being so much nicer than I ever would and he couldn’t even man up for the ceremony. He’s a bad brother and he always has been, he said. Allison didn’t correct him. Not on anything.)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(When they were kids, Klaus would sit in Allison’s room, and he would listen to her with eager ears, and watch her with shining eyes, and talk with her with that big, big mouth of his. She loved him, she loves him, she feels at her core, somewhere deep, that she always knew the rumor was a mistake. It’s hard to reconcile, looking at the pictures, looking in the mirror, the person who removed Klaus with the person who would do anything to have a way to call him and talk some shit out. Just like old times. She feels, too, that she should’ve seen everything coming. When they were kids, and Klaus would listen, and watch, and talk, she could see him unraveling at the edges. She could see the light fade. She should’ve done more. She should’ve let him stay.)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Diego had a knife halter on under his tux. She learned this by hugging him, after Klaus left, because the edge of one of the knives caught on her dress and ripped some of the embroidery. He apologized, and he meant it, and she didn’t really care but she yelled at him anyway. Good god did she yell. The dress was more than his annual income, you know, it was a custom designed, custom fitted, and now she had to find a way to cover up the right side completely or the media would never shut the fuck up about it. All because he had to have his knives. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The woman that Diego came with, his girlfriend who Allison couldn’t remember the name of, was nice. She offered to help Allison with her final preparations when Allison let slip that, well, her agent was doing that. Allison said no because she couldn’t remember the woman’s name and it felt wrong, somehow, to use her labor without knowing the name behind it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So, why is your agent helping you instead of, like, your maid of honor?” Diego slithered into the seat next to her. They were sitting in the lawn chair pews now. In less than an hour all of her guests would be sat in these chairs. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(She can remember how the lie felt on her tongue. How it rolled off, bitter, and serene, and how easily Diego believed it. How much easier it was to manufacture a fight than it might be to admit she had no friends.)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We had a fight.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit. What about?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Apparently I was asking too much of them.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Diego shielded his eyes from the sun. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Were you?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She almost cried.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe a little. I mean, I don’t think I was asking too much but...but they did. So they’re not here.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why didn’t you make them come?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“They told me over the phone. Refused to see me since. They know what I can do.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He laughed, and looked around absently. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, at least they’re smart, huh? Least I know my sister isn’t making dumbass friends.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re an asshole, you know that Diego? You’re a fucking asshole.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(Allison had never asked too much of anybody. Her powers meant everything came easily. Smooth like silk. She had no friends because she deserved no friends. She deserved, deserves, to be lonely.)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She was crying, now. Her makeup was ruined. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, if only you hadn’t made Klaus leave, huh? He would’ve made one hell of a maid of honor. Probably would’ve worn the dress, even.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her blood ran cold. She tried to meet his eyes, but they were elsewhere. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You saw that?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I saw, sister. Hope you got the wording right, or his heart is gonna break someday.” He got up and left. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know why I did it.” (The truth feels about as bitter as the lie did). </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You rumor Vanya out of coming, too? Afraid she’d ugly up the joint?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I invited her.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then she’s as smart as your friends.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>(Vanya is smarter than any friend Allison could make. Only someone so smart would write the book she did, release it at the time she released it, not show up to the wedding to maintain the isolation optics. When the book came out, the media was quick to point out Vanya’s absence. Nobody, nobody believed Allison when she said Vanya received an invitation, and declined to come. Not even Allison believed herself when she said she was proud of Vanya, and enjoyed the book. Her empty chair became an effigy in Allison’s mind.)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Diego’s girlfriend filled his seat. Her name was on the tip of Allison’s tongue, but it wouldn’t spill over. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, whatever he said… I’m sorry. He’s been really weird today. I think being around you guys has, like, made him a kid again, and not in a good way. Why don’t we get you out of the heat, maybe some water, too?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Then the woman hugged Allison. She smelled like soap, and whatever dry cleaner she had brought her pantsuit to. Her hair was soft because it didn’t have any hairspray in it. When she pulled away, there was no makeup residue on Allison’s dress strap. She didn’t think she had ever met a person she was less like.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She let the girlfriend pull her up and walk her back into the old manor. With makeup to redo, she was officially behind schedule. Her dress was ripped, and too tight, and her hair was frizzing out of its updo because of the oncoming coastal front. Diego’s girlfriend, who still didn’t have a name, carefully placed individual strands back where they belong. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s been so long since I’ve worn my hair natural. You sorta make me want to try again.” She grabbed Allison’s face and held it steady in the mirror. “There. Beautiful. Personally, I don’t think you need to put any makeup back on but I can go find your agent...Pearla? If you want me to.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>‘Will you be my maid of honor?” The words escape Allison before she realizes that she means them. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If that’ll make your day better? Yeah. Absolutely. But I don’t know if I’m qualified to give a toast or anything like that.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Eudora. That was the name. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t have to, Eudora. Promise. I just don’t want to be the only lady on the altar, you know? Not a great look. Makes me look jealous.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re one smart lady, Allison Hargreeves. Maybe Diego really is the black sheep.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Allison did have her makeup reapplied. She did have Patrick’s cousin lend her a shawl to hide Diego’s tear. She did have her dress retightened. She did read the vows she had hired written for her, instead of the ones she wrote herself. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She did cry a little bit when she looked out at her family’s section and saw four empty seats instead of the planned three. She did add Ben’s rose, and then Five’s rose, to her bouquet to be pressed later. It was tradition, she heard, to place roses on the seats of deceased family. Save a place for them. She didn’t bother to look into what happened after. Should she have thrown the flowers away? Vanya’s chair sat empty, asking her if she had ever made a good choice in her life. She couldn’t answer. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She and Patrick danced to Something just as the stars peaked through the sunset light, and it was one hell of a first dance. They had rehearsed it a thousand times. In her dress, even, because she didn’t want to get it wrong. Patrick knew how to go through the motions, and he knew how to smile for the camera. He knew to tell her to suck in so she didn’t look fat (human) on camera. She, though, she knew to suck it up, not just suck it in, and pretend this is something she wanted. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(Years later, on what should have been their 8th anniversary, she wondered how it would have felt to feel happy in that moment. Happy, she thought. It would probably feel happy.)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(Had anyone on earth deserved happiness less than her?)</span>
</p>
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